


what feels like dying

by nbsherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Pining, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbsherlock/pseuds/nbsherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>suddenly IT HURTS and he has to stop and clutch his stomach, his chest. his head is spinning and this is dying, he is sure. this is dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what feels like dying

sherlock spends the night after the wedding pacing the sitting room, fingers scratching his bare thighs. he's wearing his pants and a dressing gown, blunt nails scraping his skin, leaving red lines. 

the aching and pulsing in his chest is unbearable. his stomach churns, and it could be the champagne in his veins making him feel impossibly sick, but he had what? one, two flutes? 

he scratches his arm. probably looks like a goddamn junkie. his skin aches. it BURNS and ITCHES. and he wants to rip it off. it feels disgusting covering his muscle and bone. he wonders that if john could see his heart-- if john could see his heart maybe things would be different. 

but his skin is in the way. marred and flawed with disgusting scars and moles and-- sherlock scratches harder-- maybe even if the circumstances were different. maybe even if he had never taken the fall off bart's, maybe even if he never took two years away from him, maybe even if none of those things happened, john still wouldn't love him. 

"of course he wouldn't."

sherlock is horrified to hear tears in his throat. 

repulsed. 

sherlock scratches his thighs again. hisses as his nails tug hard enough to break skin. 

blood drips down one of his thighs. 

unaffected, he continues scratching, continues pacing. his thoughts won't stop won't stop. it won't stop. 

it HURTS. 

suddenly IT HURTS and he has to stop and clutch his stomach, his chest. his head is spinning and this is dying, he is sure. this is dying. 

eventually he falls asleep on the couch, curled in a ball, face blank and skin itching. blood dripping down his thighs, his arm, his stomach. 

\--

and he was wrong, he thinks in retrospect. 

that was not what felt like dying. 

what felt like dying was mary, turning around, dressed head to toe in deceit, bringing her gun up and shooting sherlock through the chest. 

not even the bullet, just the knowledge that now he would have this under his belt, the knowledge that his- that john's wife was THIS. 

however, the bullet feels a lot like dying as well. 

blood spills, but he cannot find john in his head. cannot find an embrace. 

why would there be one?

there never was before. 

\--

he wakes up with MARY on his lips and john at his bedside. john says "what?" and sherlock falls asleep once again. 

\--

he wakes up the second time with his hand in john's. he doesn't move, doesn't open his eyes, hears john mumble, "not losing you again", feels john's thumb stroking the back of his hand, hears him muffle his tears into his hand. sherlock lets a few tears fall down his cheeks in return. john startles, ripping his hand away from sherlock's. 

"sherlock?" he says. 

"i'm fine." sherlock says, hoarse. 

"sherlock," john insists. 

"i'm fine."

\--

sherlock is in hospital for a week after the big reveal (surprise, john! your wife is a killer, your best friend's a sociopath and everything you've ever loved is a lie!) and the whole fiasco with the internal bleeding. 

then he comes home and john is standing there with a suitcase that isn't an overnight bag and sherlock feels something else fracture inside of him. 

"can i-"

"yes."

\--

john is sitting on the same couch as sherlock and he is watching the same movie as sherlock he is living in the same flat as sherlock and he is breathing the same air as sherlock. 

sherlock glances over at john and finds that john has fallen asleep.

he can't leave him there, shakes his shoulder. "john."

"mm, sherlock?" sounds beautiful. 

"yes. you fell asleep on the couch."

"mm." slumps over, head on sherlocks shoulder, sighs against his arm, sherlock can FEEL the warmth of john's breath, the hot moisture of it, through his t-shirt. 

sherlock can't move. 

falls asleep like that. 

wakes up alone. 

\--

"-nd i-, i-," pause for breath, hiccups, "i said, nuh- i said no, mary, m'not comin' home t'night." he smiles, looks like sunshine, "n' i'm not coming home tomorrow or- uh- or next week, or th' week after that." he finishes, smiles, sips his whiskey. 

sherlock looks at him, "okay." drinks his own whiskey. finishes it, in fact. pours himself another. 

"oh- oh no," john slurs, "thas' okay, right?" 

"what?" sherlock puts the bottle down, sips his drink, "y- yeah john, thas'- thas' fine." he smiles back at him but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

john smiles, slumps down from his chair, on his knees. reminds sherlock of the stag night-- but best not to think of anything wedding related. the skin of sherlock's thigh throbs. 

john moves hazily, putting his head on sherlock's knee. "sh'lock," he says. "missed yuh'."

"i missed you too, john," comes out of sherlock's mouth without permission. 

john stands up, tilts, steadies himself. puts his hand on sherlock's shoulder before placing himself on sherlock's lap, smiling. the smile is fuzzy. sherlock's mouth waters. 

"hi." john says. he puts his head on sherlocks chest. "wan'- wanna hear your heart beat." he closes his eyes, listening. 

sherlock is worried that john might not be able to hear anything, though. as his heart has just stopped. 

\--

they wake up the next day-- or rather john wakes up the next day-- on sherlock's lap, confused. stands up, surveys the empty whiskey bottle on the floor, surveys sherlock, still fully clothed (good) and breathing (better). 

then he goes to the bathroom, washes his mouth out, and heads upstairs to sleep off the pounding in his head. 

\--

sherlock wakes up much later remembering the weight of john against his chest, but not feeling it. 

"oh," he says aloud to the room. 

\--

when john leaves again it's with the sort of promise that he will return someday, maybe even soon. 

sherlock hopes for soon. 

\--

christmas is a disaster in that sherlock thought that when he took john to meet his parents john would not be married to a gun-for-hire named not-mary and expecting a child. 

\--

then it is more of a disaster because APPLEDORE IS NOT REAL and SHERLOCK IS A FAILURE. 

and has maybe just proven his sociopath diagnosis right. 

\--

and then

sherlock takes the tarmac with a pinch of "i'm glad i'm dying in 6 months so i never have to feel this way again" and shakes john's hand goodbye instead of pulling him into his arms, kissing him, murmuring "i love you, i love you." and maybe john saying back, "i love you too you great idiot."

\--

he settles back into his plane seat, ignoring the stinging of his eyes and the shaking of his hands and takes a phone call. 

\--

the end.

**Author's Note:**

> http://whyshezza.tumblr.com come suffer with me


End file.
